Robin, The Moonacre Prince
by black-ostia
Summary: There's a whole story, a whole world, hidden under this boy's skin, tucked away behind his eyes. Previously just "The Moonacre Prince."
1. Prologue

_Yeah_.

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The raven-haired noble in sweeping grey fur robes paced the cold marble hall in tortured silence. The clumping of his heavy leather boots were the only sounds echoing hauntingly in it. The torches that hung from the wall brought him little light, save for the glorious full moon and the scanty, hazy stars shining in the archaic windows.

His brow heavy with care, the du Noir lord leaned against the old cracked wall as if all his strength had left him. A young girl in a flowing white nightgown ran up to her father on dainty bare feet. "Is Mother going to be alright?" she asked worriedly. For one so young, only ten, she seemed so aware of the problems and cares her world carried.

Her father sighed and put a gloved hand on her blond curly head. "I hope so, my love."

Just then a door in the hallway opened, and a kind, wizened face looked out of it. "He's here, Milord," the nurse said softly.

The Coeur du Noir drew a slow, weary breath and took his daughter's petite hand. "Are you ready to meet your brother, love?" She nodded solemnly, and with that they went inside.

The room was quite bare, save for the nurse, a roaring fire in a somber corner, and a large bed carrying a tired but happy mother, and in her arms, her newborn son. She gently handed him to her husband, and collapsed on her pillows wearily, letting her smiling daughter stroke her corn silk hair as they both crooned their favorite lullaby to the new member of their royal family.

_Sing, little bird, sing of the sea  
Of unity lost and terror to be  
Little robin, where are your cares?  
Dear robin, have you no fears?  
Remember what you are  
A hope shining like a star_

The du Noir princeling's dark unblinking eyes were large and observant, sharp and inquisitive. His thick curls, the same color as his eyes, hung heavily from his small bobbing oval head. His tiny hands reached to his father's soft ebony beard, gurgling with delight at the touch. The Coeur du Noir, a brand-new father all over again, nosed his son lovingly, too happy for words.

Suddenly the girl screamed, for her mother began choking uncontrollably, her hazel eyes rolling in her fair face. Everyone rushed to her aid, trying to help her breathe; her husband could only stare shocked as the life was being pulled out of her before him.

The Lady of the du Noirs coughed out the blood that clogged her throat, and breathed her last; her stunned eyes forever open in a penetrating gaze.

As if he comprehended it, the baby began wailing, and all his father could do was stare at his face. His mother's face.

The old, understanding nurse gently took him from his father to let him and Loveday grieve over their beloved's corpse.

"Oh, little bird, little Robin," the nurse murmured, rocking the baby gently as he quieted down, and his eyes widened once more. "'Tis not your fault."

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_I'm working on the next chapters: don't worry! Well, who'd worry about the welfare of this fertilizer…_


	2. Father

_Keel meh now…keeel meeh now…_

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I lay against the gnarled bark of the acacia tree, exhaling softly, my ears tuned to the sounds about me: the lush leaves dancing in the soft afternoon breeze, the chirping birds above… this was the quiet I loved, the deafening silence that let me hear my thoughts for a while.

I was far away; far far away from the castle, from the noise and the stuffiness. From Father.

I hated that man. I hated him for hating me for no reason at all.

Loveday said that he wasn't like this before I was born. She said that when all the hairs on his head were still ebony-hued, and Mother was still alive, he would sing her to sleep as she would snuggle down in her soft tiffany bed. Sometimes he would lie beside her as her cornflower eyes slowly closed, still crooning the same way my teenage sister was crooning to me now:

_Sing, little bird, sing of the sea  
Of unity lost and terror to be  
Little robin, where are your cares?  
Dear robin, have you no fears?  
Remember what you are  
A hope shining like a star_

How I hated it that he forgot to love because of me.

I looked to my right, where Loveday lay beside me in her fluffy chartreuse silk dress. "It seems so far away now," she said sadly, shaking her golden head as she finished singing. "…now he's got the castle to reconstruct, and men to train, and girls to…" Her bitter voice faltered.

"Entertain?" I mumbled. Loveday looked at me, surprised. Then she sighed upon realization, and hugged me in a soft assuring manner. I was only six, but already knew how…unfatherly the Coeur du Noir was.

We stared out at our stone home, shining dully amongst the rich foliage on the gloomy hill it stood on, in resolved silence.

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_I giggled as Loveday jabbed at me, iron skillet in hand. "You can't get me!" I sang, narrowly missing a blow in the ribs._

_Father was away on business, whatever that was, and wouldn't be back before long, so we had the castle all to ourselves._

"_Come back here!" she growled playfully as she lunged, and I saw the perfect opportunity to smack her on the arm with my wooden sword. Yelping, she started backward, giving me enough time to do a raspberry at her and run up the castle steps._

"_I'm coming after youuu…" she howled, threateningly stomping up after me. I snickered and hid behind one of the twin granite gargoyles that were placed atop the winding stairs._

_I waited breathlessly as she made her way nearer and nearer to me, until… "Got you!" she yelled triumphantly, tossing her weapon aside and digging her fingers into my hide instead._

"_Loveday!" I shrieked, trying to worm my way out of her tickles. She grinned evilly and lifted me high above her fair head, and the place echoed with our laughter._

_Suddenly the doors to the castle hall burst open, and rowdy guffaws reverberated on us and in us. My sister started in fright and made me duck behind one of the open-mouthed gargoyles for some unknown reason._

_We peeked out cautiously to see Father and some of the noblemen stagger inside. They all looked bedraggled yet happy, acting like the world wasn't holding them down properly. _

"_Ah, get back to yer holes, ye rats!" Father roared as he clapped one of his men, a giggling captain, on the back._

"_Goodnight, me Lordship," the others chuckled, before helping each other lurch into their quarters._

_I turned to Loveday, my wide eyes asking confusedly, _what's wrong with them?

_Her own eyes wide with unexplainable terror, she shook her head slowly, warning me not to do anything drastic._

_But as fate decreed it, my prop slid down the steps and met my giggling, wheezing father. He stopped abruptly and picked it up. Frowning at it, he looked around suspiciously, booming, "_Show yourself_!"_

_I quivered at Father's harsh tone, and accidentally whimpered aloud. Loveday gasped and clapped a shaking hand over my big mouth._

_Father's rough hand suddenly wrenched us up, and he stared at us with cloudy, squinting eyes. "Shouldn't you two be in bed?" he murmured, like he forgot he was supposed to be mad._

_Loveday nodded immediately and sprinted up the stairs, her pale nightgown flying after her. I, on the other hand, just looked up at my father with a bewildered air._

_Big mistake._

"_Why do you walk funny?" I asked as I led him along, letting lean heavily on my shoulder._

_He grinned at me. "Just had a small bit of fun, my boy." He hiccupped and nearly stumbled, had I not held him up. He shook his head and chuckled. "Your old man's getting old, Robin."_

_I frowned. "What kind of fun?"_

_He sighed impatiently, "Just…fun. You'll know yourself someday."_

"_When? What fun?"_

"_You ask too much questions!" he barked, suddenly pushing me backwards in rage. I yelped as I stumbled down the hard steps, bumping my head against the edge._

_I looked up at my father, my eyes brimming with tears. He just looked at me somberly, growling, "When will you stop being like your Goddamned mother?" He turned away without a care, letting my blood and tears spill silently across the cold steps._

I was four.

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I opened the ancient, creaking doors as silently as possible, peeping into the torch-lit hall. Thankfully, no one was roaming around just yet.

I glanced at my sister, mouthing _all clear_, and we stole in, tiptoeing as fast as we could.

We were halfway up the polished steps, smiling at each other at the success of our hidden trip when: "Where have you two been?"

We jumped at Father's sudden, gruff baritone voice. Guiltily we turned to face him. He looked even more ominous with his flowing black robes and his stern alabaster face, which was scrunched into an irate glare.

"_Where_?" he repeated forebodingly, almost yelling.

Loveday gulped and pulled me behind her protectively. "We were just out in the forest, Father," she said, still managing to sound brave despite her shaking voice. "Just talking."

He grunted and stepped closer. "I've been looking all over Moonacre for you two."

"Even on Merryweather land?" she asked incredulously.

My father's grey eyes narrowed at her, and I looked up at her, surprised as well that she dared to say the name of our dreaded historic enemy.

"Loveday du Noir, I'll have none of that tongue," he growled ominously. Loveday's thin lips trembled then sealed shut.

He looked at me and said roughly, "Robin, you're coming with me."

For some reason Loveday's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, and she held me even closer. "Father, you _can't_. He's only…no…" Her frantic tone sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

I frowned at my strange family. What was it that I was too young for?

"He's a du Noir," Father thundered. "He starts what he was made for _today_."

I didn't even know what he meant, but for some reason, what got into my head was that if I proved my worth to my father, I might win him. He would love again. Love me.

How stupid and naïve I was.

Much later, we were in the castle grounds, bows, arrows and swords strewn everywhere. Not long off were some archery targets and old spears stuck in the stony ground. Banners of our clan flapped forlornly in the hardy wind.

As I stared around confusedly, unsure of what to do, my father strode over, grabbed two stout rods lying nearby and threw one at me without warning. I nearly toppled over trying to catch it; it was just as tall as me, and just as heavy.

Before I could grasp it properly, he struck me behind the knees, knocking me down. I only managed to push myself up when he hit me in the stomach. "Think! _Move_!" he barked, striking me again, on the back.

As I tried to block his heavy blows that rained on me, I realized that he wasn't just training me. He _wanted_ to hit me. Out of blind hatred I lunged, but he easily parried my hit. I twisted our rods, trying to get at his side. "Good," Father said, his tone only a bit steely. His staff moved in a blur, and I collapsed on my back, my head bleeding and throbbing at the temples.

Father raised an eyebrow and prodded my leg. Tossing the staff back into my limp arms, he grunted, "Get up and use your head, boy. Whatever did you inherit from me?"

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It was well past moonrise when I staggered up the steps to my room in the tower, trying to avoid the burning stares of everyone I encountered in vain. Blood was scattered all over my cheeks and soiled clothes. Not a part of my body was cursing my father's corpse to rot in hell.

I heavily slammed open the door, and met my stunned sister's eyes. I managed to smile ironically at her before falling to the ground.

I let her carry me to the bed, and tend to my hurts. As she tenderly swathed my face, I stared up emptily at the ceiling, wishing for nothing else than to die.

Loveday lay beside me silently that night, her loving presence my only comfort as I cried myself to sleep.

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_Okay…any 45s available? I'm being a bit sadistic here…_

_If you feel I'm torturing poor Rob much, let me know. I'm not much for 45s. Only grenades. Heh._


	3. Loveday

_Sorry peops that I took so long… Don' worreh, y' 'ave meh fer two weeks! Hwaharharh…_

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_Three years later_

I slowly and unwillingly woke to the blinding sunlight that streamed through the tinted glass of my window. Shielding my eyes, I pulled on a shirt that was strewn on the floor alongside many things. I sighed and ran a hand trough my unruly curls. I was ready for another day of bone-breaking training…

_Wait_.

Morning already? I frowned and peered into the halls below; people were bustling with activity. Why didn't Father wake me? He was supposed to teach me how to spar…

"Your father isn't going to be with you today." I yelped when Loveday's voice answered from behind me. "Loveday, do that again and you'll scare the living daylights out of me," I groaned, and she smiled, saying, "I managed to get you off his hands for a few months. _I_ will be teaching you now."

My eyes widened and I asked in disbelief, "_You_? _You_ will be teaching me how to spar?"

Loveday laughed merrily. "Robin, Robin," she sighed, suddenly solemn, "you can't even spell your name. You will be learning how to read and write." She grinned, mischievous again. "It's not your body that will suffer now: it's your brain you'll have to use."

I rolled my eyes, sighing, "I can't wait…"

Much later, we were in the heart of the forest, seated on the enormous, gnarled roots of a giant redwood. Worn-out books with yellowed, torn pages sat on our laps and on the forest floor. Using a quill, Loveday scratched out something on a piece of paper. She gave it to me and asked if I understood what it meant. I stared blankly, unable to comprehend the useless jumble of lines. I glanced helplessly at my sister.

She patiently said, "_A_," and repeated the letter, showing me how it was done. I copied it, not as neatly, but respectable enough. I grinned like I used a leaf to catch a mountain lion.

"Now," she said, drawing a breath, "you only use _this_ letter A when you're writing it at the start of a sentence, or writing a proper noun, like a name."

Once again I stared blankly at her, like she spoke Greek instead of English. Loveday sighed and put her gold head in her hand. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she muttered. Slowly I printed another A and held it out to her helpfully.

"It's a start," I grinned sheepishly.

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I wandered through the hall aimlessly, not caring I would incessantly trip over something or someone. I was far too drawn into another world: the fragile world I held in my hands. My copy of _Hamlet_ was older than my father, and less sturdy.

I had come across _shroud_ a few times before, but always forgot what it meant. So I walked into Loveday's study, eyes still glued to the book, asking, "Loveday, what does _shroud_ mean again?"

No answer, no soft laugh or shuffle of papers. I looked up to the empty velvet seat behind the only table, which was quite messy, in the room.

No Loveday.

I shrugged, thinking that she might have gone off for a ride on Henrietta, her speckled mare. I slid into her "seat of honor" and looked around pleasantly at the shelves and shelves of books, countless universes waiting to be explored. Well, I had to finish Shakespeare's first.

We had only gone through a few months of mind-unhinging literary conquest, but I already read faster than her. We would even have little contests on who could finish _King_ _Lear_ faster, and I always finished faster. I smiled, remembering that she once commented that I was as clever as a real robin.

It was midday already, and I was now done with Hamlet, but Loveday still wasn't back. I was worrying more and more about here these past weeks. She would disappear for hours on end and come back air-headed and happy, despite the fact she speeded up Father's hair graying more.

Just as I had decided to ask the guards to scour the grounds for her, Loveday burst into the room, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing. She stopped short at the sight of me. "Robin?" she asked breathlessly, though her voice lilted ecstatically.

"Where were you?" I asked as she slumped onto the rickety elm chair by the doorway, breathless. "You've been gone the entire morn-"

"I've met the most wonderful man in the world!" she exclaimed, sweeping her arm towards her large collection of Shakespeare on the floor. I looked at her blankly. (Apparently I loved doing that to her.) "Shakespeare?" I asked.

"No!" she laughed, still panting. "His name is Benjamin… Benjamin Merryweather…"

I froze, gripping the edge of my seat so tightly my knuckles turned white. "L-Loveday?" I choked. "You…a Merryweather?"

Her smile faded. "Robin, you don't understand…"

"I do, Loveday! I do!" I stood up, my angry voice rising by the second. "How could you fall for a backstabbing, worthless-"

"_Robin_," she said sharply, standing up as well with fiery eyes. "Stop judging him because of his name. He's not what you think he-"

"He's still a Merryweather," I cried, trembling with rage. "How…how could you stoop so low?"

"His lineage doesn't make him who he is! You're just our father all over agai-" She stopped, seeing the shocked pain in my watering eyes.

"I…am not…my father…" I whispered hoarsely.

"And Benjamin isn't Wrolf Merryweather," Loveday sighed remorsefully. She held out her arms and I ran into them, sobbing noiselessly. "You're you, Robin, no one else… I'm sorry for what I said." She tilted my chin up so my bleary dark eyes would meet her blue ones. "Please try to see that what I feel for Benjamin is far from unjust."

I gulped a shudder and asked sheepishly, "What's _unjust_?"

She laughed softly and patted my face. "Wrong. It means wrong. To make assumptions about a person is wrong, remember that." I nodded. She hugged me and murmured, "Don't tell Father about Benjamin…"

I asked softly, "Did you tell _him_ you were a Du Noir?"

She visibly froze at this, and slowly she shook her head, biting her lower lip. I sighed and hugged her back, having a very bad feeling about what could happen should anyone find out…

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I sat on my tiffany bed, staring out into the glimmering night sky and kicking at the floor with the heels of my feet, lost in my imaginings.

It had been two years: two years of secrets, sneaking-outs and lies, all to protect the existence of Loveday's insufferable Benjamin. We managed to talk Father into believing that she was being courted by an English royal across Moonacre. It was a bit uneasy doing all of this, but seeing my sister so radiant was the only reward I needed.

I laughed quietly and smiled. So far, so good.

Suddenly Loveday flew into the room, her brilliant daffodil-hued skirts flying out from behind her. "Robin!" she shrieked, grabbing me suddenly and whirling me around in an ecstatic frenzy, like she used to hen we were young.

"Loveday!" I yelped, though I began laughing uncontrollably as well as she whizzed me through the air. "Wha- What's going on?"

She set me down, smiling and crying all at once, and held out her hand. On her trembling finger was a small but glorious diamond ring that glistened in the dim firelight.

I stared at it in awe, then at my sister, then back at the clear, priceless crystal. A genuine grin spread across my face and I hugged her with all my might. She stroked my dark head absently, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks onto my hair.

"Benjamin Merryweather," she whispered joyfully. She lifted me once again in the air, practically screaming her fiancé's name: "_Benjamin_ _Merryweather_!"

I laughed, nut it faded when I saw Loveday's eyes widen with fright. Slowly she let me down and we turned to face our father.

He was frozen at the doorway, his stunned eyes staring at us in disbelief, slowly replaced by indescribable rage.

"_Traitor_!" he screamed, flinging himself at my sister. I yelped angrily as I was thrown aside. Loveday cried helplessly, begging for my father's forgiveness. What she got was a hard slap on the cheek.

"_Never show your face here again, you no-good excuse for a daughter_!" he roared. The guards standing grim-faced at the doorway came in and roughly dragged her away. I watched, unable to move, as she mouthed to me heartbrokenly, _Robin_…

Father immediately turned to face me. "_You_!" he bellowed, kicking me down onto my stomach. I coughed violently, trying to crawl away from my monstrous father. He stomped down on my back so hard I thought it would break. I gripped to the cold slippery floorboards and cried out, "_Go on! Hit me_!"

I could feel him falter momentarily, then he dig his heel into my neck. Tears of indescribable pain and and numb rage poured down from my eyes. "_Is that the best you can do_?!" I screamed. By now shocked knaves and handmaidens had flocked at the door, watching in horror as their heartless master beat up his only heir. _Idiots_, I yelled mentally at them. _Don't just stand there and watch me get crushed like a parasite!_

"_Is that it? Is that all_?" I shouted brokenly, and he stepped back, examining my misshaped, bruised self with irate, if not baffled, eyes.

"Hit me," I whispered, coughing as I held on to my battered self. "Hit…" I retched dryly and lay limp on the floor, every inch of my upper body throbbing. I felt some of the servants rush to me, checking my hurts. I heard one of them mutter angrily under his breath, "His Lordship shouldn't have done this…his own son…"

"You go back to training first thing in the morning," my father said coldly, like he hadn't forced the strength out of my body, like he hadn't drawn every bit of my soul out of me as he did my will to exist. "And I promise you this: linger the way that cur of a woman did and you'll pay heavier than her." With that he walked out, the nervous slaves stepping away to clear his loud path out.

That night I lay sleepless in the room that would haunt my memories for the rest of my life. I raised a stiff tourniquet-covered arm to the figure of the full moon shining in the sky. Gently playing with its light, I remembered the legend Loveday told me of our ancestors, the legend that kept the vengeful families apart. On the five thousandth moon Moonacre would die or something…

I wished it was already the five thousandth moon and I was Moonacre instead.

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_If it's crappy, forgive me…at least I posted something! And I realized I made Robin like to wish for the impossible a li-ittle too incessantly…feh._


	4. Emer

_WAUGH! SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I hope this suffices…Uh, one warning…this chapter is rated M for, uh… sexual themes and all that…do forgive…you'll need to read it to get the story, so PLEASE BEAR WITH IT!!! I'll explain meself later…_

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_At 16 years of age_

Pulling on a dark trench coat and a tattered maroon scarf I stole from my father's closet, I peered through the hallway cautiously. Seeing no one around, I snuck out the looming archaic walls of the castle, past the heavy doors and into the frozen winter land.

My worn-out boots crunched on the thin layer of snow. It had only appeared overnight, and you could see the rough earth and brittle leaves underneath. I looked up ahead and saw the sky's canvas painted dull, lifeless colors. Only a little hint of grey sunlight peered out every now and then as it set farther into the afternoon.

I soon reached my destination: the village. Two lone sentinels stood at the battered wooden entrance, with only firelight to aid their eyes to the dimming light. Quickly I covered my face with my hood, lest they recognize the unfortunate son of their Du Noir leader…though neither I nor he wanted to recognize ourselves as such.

I slipped through the dirty streets of the "Purgatory," as Vhince mockingly called it. That was quite ironic, for instead of cleansing your sins here, you committed them instead. The place was despicable, this haven for the common and poor, only fir for soldiers, cooks, laundresses; hopeless, helpless people… A blind leper held his few-fingered, rotting hands out to me for alms, but I shunned away. A scrawny, ribby mongrel with its tail between its stick-like legs dashed past me, with no sense of dignity because of the cruel bastardized children throwing stones after it.

This wasn't the way it was before, Reno's father once told me while studying me with implying eyes. I got and completed his point: it hadn't been this way before I came along.

"Hey ,Rob. Took you long enough." A tanned, muscled arm made its way around my shoulders and grasped them firmly. Reno smiled wryly from behind his untamed mop of raven hair and spoke again, rough voice still muffled by the stalk of wheat hanging from between his white teeth, "The other two are waiting at the square. Come on."

The village square always had a large bonfire during winter, seated in the perfect middle. Logs were hauled around, so people could sit around and warm their hands and hearts.

Seth, or Freckle, as he was nicknamed because of the abundance of them on both his pale cheeks, was already slouched near the heat, steadily drinking from a flask. I grabbed it and held the half-empty bottle away from his clumsy hands and chided him, "Now, now, Freckle, I believe you've had enough of this for your young stomach." He was the youngest of us anyway; just one look at his large blue eyes, ever-jovial spirit and head of crazy red hair betrayed his thirteen years.

He reached for the bottle before he stumbled over his own feet, whining, "N' fair, Rob…dash onleh me therd bottle…"

"Exactly," Reno said, taking it from me. "What, you stole rice wine from your mother again?"

"She warn't drinking it yet…" Freckle mumbled before lunging for it again. Reno held it out of his reach and swung it tauntingly before him. We sat and laughed heartily as our friend followed the bottle the way a lost bloodhound with a cold tracks game.

Vhince dropped in shortly, straddling the log we sat on and smirking at Freckle's antics. "Yer doin' et wrong," he mock-scolded us with his smooth, silky voice and took the wine from us. Emptying the remains in one draft, he then smashed the bottle on Freckle's back, laughing crazily. "Tha's 'ow ye dewett!" he hooted as Freckle yelped and tried to brush the glass off him.

I sighed. Vhince was oftentimes too crazy for us to bear. You never know what he'd do next; from stealing goats then drowning them for sport to drugging the sentinels guarding the village and stripping them of…well, everything, many people didn't admire his foxy ways too much. I secretly found it admirable and amusing…

Now he tugged a passing brunette girl by her skirts, prompting her to land on his lap. We just raised eyebrows, looking on while he whispered seductively in her ear. She giggled and ran an eager hand through his long dark hair and down his chest before walking off, batting her long lashes at him.

"That's…the third one this month?" I asked Vhince as he turned back to us, a triumphant smirk etched on his pale Adonis-like face. "Fourth, actualleh," he corrected me and stretched lazily. "S' getting' so easy it's borin' meh."

"Then there's no point in wasting your jewels, then," Reno taunted, aiming a blow at the fly of Vhince's pants. He jumped away, his mouth curved into a fake o of surprise.

Laughing I stood up. "Well, if we're going to be here a while, I ought to get us some ale." "You do that!" Freckle yelled after me, still sprawled on the snow.

I approached the local store and drew back my hood. An oil lamp flickered with a sickly yellow light from the old rafters. Assorted goods like sacks of corn and rice, bottles of beer, and pipe weed were piled on shelves or in corners. What was missing was the stooped little old lady that tended to the store, normally sitting on the chipped footstool in the midst.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" I called tentatively; no one answered. "Ma'am? Four ginger ales, please… Helooo???" I rapped my knuckles on the panels of the small window.

"'Old on, 'old on…" I heard a young female voice grumble, and the speaker came in through a small backdoor. I tried my best not to stare, but I failed badly, and my jaw fell open as a result. Never had I seen such a face, or such a body. She had a face carved by the angels themselves, framed by brilliantly dark curls cascading around her pale face and onto her shoulders. Her tight dress proudly showed off her curvaceous, delicately slim figure. And her eyes… Good God, her eyes… They were vast glistening emerald seas, holding all the wonders of the world. Oh Lord…the work of a genius…

I shook my head to clear my mind and listen to her properly; she was saying with her melodious voice, "… fer now, Oi'm keepin' shop fer now…me grandma's out." She stopped on seeing the enchanted look on my face. Her full red lips twitched into a sly smile, and she teased, "Oi'd wotch where Oi'd look if Oi wose yeh." She ran a china finger down my cold nose; it left me tingling with her touch.

"Four ginger ales, wose et?" she asked casually as she bent down in front of me, revealing more of her than I pleased. My eyes raked none too subtly over what I saw. Oh, how my fingers ached to –

My daydreams were cut short by her slamming the bottles in front of me. I jumped and she laughed. "Tha'd be foive shillins', love," she giggled, merry green eyes twinkling. I'd never felt as embarrassed in my life as I clumsily counted out the coins in my pockets and she watched on amusedly. Without warning she leaned over on the countertop and murmured, "You're a pretty boy, arentcha, li'le fellar?"

I thought I was going to burst out of my pants. "Erm…well…uh…maybe…" Damn, how does Vhince manage to do this? I never managed to answer myself, but continued to stare at her mouth.

She smiled again, and leaned more, so close that her lips were inches away from my quivering ones. "Well, pretty, star struck boy, you can come back t'noigh', roigh' 'ere…" She brushed her glorious lips over my cheek, which proceeded to burn uncomfortably. "Oi'll be waitin'," she whispered breathily.

I shook my head to clear it of cobwebs and tried to smile easily at my friends as I walked up to them and handed out the ale. The attempt made me look like I had a toothache.

"Why'd the old gal keep you?" Reno asked as he took a long swig from his bottle then thwacked Freckle, who was choking on drinking too much.

"Nah," Vhince grinned knowingly and slung an arm around my shoulder. "'E wose too bisseh wit' me sistah, werentcha, Rob?"

I gaped at him. "Y-your sister?" No wonder they sounded so alike. …Well, I saw the family resemblance. Vhince's features were nore wraithlike and mysteriously dashing, while hers were more soft, rounded and sensual… Oh, damn, my pants went tight again.

Reno joined the grinning and shook me by the arm. "Her name's Emer," he said cunningly.

Emer… Emer…the name sounded so inviting, even just by rolling it around in your head. My ears flushed red, and I just mumbled and cursed under my breath.

"Wha' wose tha', cap'n?" Vhince teased and stuck his ear near to my mouth.

"I said that she wanted to see me again tonight…" I grumbled then glared at my tormentors. They whooped and clapped me on the back. Freckle broke his now empty bottle on the log in celebration.

"Than go fer et, lad!" Vhince laughed. "'S no' alwais tha' me sistah offers 'erself loike tha'…" He winked at me.

"O-offers herself?" I gaped at the way he said it. "Y-you mean–" But they were now cracking crazy, perverted jokes, as they always did, Freckle laughing along just for show. I just stayed silent, still stunned by this turn of events. My mind began imagining willowy curves, moans in the night, whispers of sweet nothings in each other's ears, tangled sweaty bodies trembling and spent… I bit my lip and stiffly listened to them until the sunset behind the mountains, winking at us one last time tonight…wait, it was nighttime already?!

"Oh wonderful!" I stood up, suddenly remembering. My father was going to murder me for this…

"What is it?"

"I need to meet my father! Like…now!" I flew off, not bothering to hood myself against the biting cold. As I ran for my life, Vhince called, "Don' fergit yer 'appointment!'" Loud guffaws followed his tease, piercing the frigid air.

----------

I knelt at the foot of my father's throne, quivering with fear and anxiousness. I was wearing the ridiculously poufy attire the servants had instructed me to wear. "Am I going to my funeral?" I had asked them nervously as I put the fiery red suit on.

"No, milord," one of the maids, a young pretty thing, had assured me bashfully as she helped me clip my cloak on. "Can't be; not when you're still young and handso –" She had clapped a hand over her mouth, reddening as she did so. "S-sorry, milord," she had mumbled hurriedly and left, leaving her giggling fellow maids behind.

Young and handsome, eh? I chuckled to myself, even as Father stepped into view. Now that two gorgeous women had told me words I thought I would never heard from their likes, I was ready to face anything.

Father now sat on his throne pompously, as only he could do; I thought and wished he would fall off from the bountifulness of his getup. Black fur here and there, dark cloth everywhere…he looked like a newly-awakened, ill-tempered grizzly bear.

At first I knelt there, afraid to even glance at him for fear of being set on fire by his piercing gaze. Slowly I looked up, and I saw that, for once, he wasn't glaring at me, or studying me like I was a strange creature. Instead he was just…staring at me, an almost melancholy look on his face.

"Ah…well…erm…ha–happy birthday, Robin," he said, his voice cracking with awkwardness. I merely nodded and quickly looked down again. A heavy silence followed; the guards managed to sneak baffled looks at each other before their faces turned stoic again.

"I… I can't think of any other present for you, except…to give you some freedom." I looked up straight at him in disbelief.

"Yes," he continued, standing off and descending the steps to pull me up and put a coin purse in my hands. "You can go to the village alone, without any escort. Go have some fun." I merely nodded, feigning great thanks, only to hide my smirk. He never knew that I snuck into the village for countless times and didn't get caught. But the sad smile on his face was enough for me to mean it.

I wondered what he was so poignant about when he spoke to me as I pulled on my coat, but that slipped my mind when I remembered: I was going to the village with his consent. I could see Emer.

I practically soared to the village, my feet barely touching the ground. All I could think about was Emer. Her face, her eyes, her expressive gestures, her body just begging to be touched…

I snuck past the guards and reached my destination. Wildly I rapped my knuckles on the wooden frame of the window. "Emer!" I hissed, dying with impatience.

She came to the window and lit the lamp, frowning at first then smiling widely upon seeing it was me. She came out and put a hand on my arm, sending chills of delight down my spine. "Ah, me pretty boy," she grinned, and led me deeper into the store. Only when I saw the rickety old bed standing in the corner did I realize what our appointment meant. My breath caught in my throat.

She wrapped her slender porcelain arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer to her, so close that our lips were only a hairbreadth apart, and our bodies pressed together. I was fascinated at how her chest and curves fir against mine, and how green her eyes were…

"Yer toired, Oi kin tell," she murmured, trailing a finger down my trembling mouth. "Ye jus' wanna noigh' fer yaself…"

"I'd like that very much," I said softly, my heart pounding like a jackrabbit's.

She smiled and kissed me…and sparks flew.

She pushed me onto the bed and let me watch at an agonizing pace as she pulled off her garments. Soon she stood before me wearing her corset…and only her corset. She sat on my lap and wrapped her legs around my waist, kissing me tenderly. Her hands guided me over her voluptuous figure, letting me tug at the string of her corset. As I fumbled with that, she pulled off my clothes like a released beast getting it deprived desire.

We had both awakened our feral natures, and now we let them loose. I couldn't believe it was only now that I learned what it was like to be touched, or what a girl felt like, or how I could be rendered incompetent by a single caress, graze or squeeze.

"Ye ferst toime, innit?" she asked me teasingly as I swore for the enth time again when she stroked me. I laughed weakly and said, "Am I that obvious?"

"Ye 'affa lot on yer moind roigh' now," she said tenderly whilst staring into my eyes with her breathtaking olive orbs. "Jus'…let all yer feelin' out…"

A passionate half-hour later I was lying between her legs. She was so small I feared I would break her. To assure myself I ran my lips up and down her milky thigh, both of us shuddering in delight.

"I…I'm confused," I mumbled, and she looked at me quizzically. "This – this all feels so right but so rushed…I want you to be happy but–"

"Oi wont ye t' be 'appy too, love," she murmured while intertwining her fingers in my dark curls. "We'll foind a waiy." With that, she pushed our mouths together…and I inside her.

We moaned so loudly it was a wonder we didn't shake the entire valley. We moved together, breathed together, cried together… we were one, right here and now, and nothing was to stop that. Eventually I collapsed beside her, breathless but ecstatic. She crawled onto my chest, sweat glistening everywhere on her flushed body. I laid my cheek on her dark head and stroked her silky mane of hair.

I had never felt this happy in my life since Loveday left. I had never felt this…wanted or cared about. I was freely loving and being loved, and I never wanted it to end.

Slowly she stood up and began pulling off her things. My mind strained to capture the last fleeting moments of her loveliness before I grudgingly began dressing too.

"Ah…a little help 'ere, love?" she called sheepishly, indicating her untied corset. I went over and tied the strings, but not while I deliberately ran my fingers up and down the small of her back and lower… She slapped my hand away and pretended to glare at me, and I just laughed.

I then knew that I loved Emer with all that was left of me. She had replaced the missing pieces of my life, filling the holes. I seemed about ready to sprout wings and fly.

Slowly I stepped towards the door, and found I couldn't bring myself to take even just a step out. She saw this and hugged me from behind, placing both her open hands on my chest. I took them and kissed them softly, turning around as I did so. "Oi don' wont ye t' leave…" she murmured, pressing her forehead against mine. "Me neither," I said softly. We stood there awhile under the lamplight, drinking in each other's presence while it was still there.

"Er…Robin…this be a moighteh 'ard thing t' be askin' ye…" I looked at her curiously and started when I saw the tears glistening in her lush green eyes. "What is it?" I asked.

She drew a shaky breath and said, "Me fam'leh's onleh source a' livelihood's this store we's standin' I roigh' now…but our gran'ma…she's bin sick fer so long nowe, an' we barely 'aff monneh t' paiy fer th' rent or fer even jus' a few 'erbs…" She shut her eyes painfully, and a tear as precious as a diamond escaped one.

I all but died seeing her in agony. Before I could even think, my hand flew to my money pouch and fished out two gold pieces to tuck into her fists. "Will this cover it?" I asked breathlessly, drinking in the absolute happiness on her face when she saw the pieces with widening eyes.

"Jus' foine, darlin'!" she cried happily before practically throwing herself at me and smothering me with hugs and kisses. "Thank you," she whispered over and over again into my chest. I laughed softly and kissed her salt-soaked lips. "Anything for you, love…"

I all but staggered out, delirious with joy and love; happiness emanated from my seams. I didn't surprise myself when, once I saw Vhince, I grappled him in a bone-breaking hug.

"Oi, oi, **oi**! Don' wanner go t' 'eaven jus' yet, boy!" he laughed as he managed to wrench my arms off him, his eyes twinkling with lascivious amusement. "Oi taike it ye 'ad a good toime now, eh?"

"Good? That, my man, is the understatement of the year!" I beamed, hugging his head and messing his hair, something I rarely did. "I could float to the moon!"

"Ah, don't get too touchy just because you spent a night with a woman!" he scowled in mock seriousness as he pushed me off again. I grinned like a Cheshire cat and collapsed against a nearby tree. "Well, I guess it has its effects, then, eh? Even into giving gold for a sick grandmother… Ah, well, at least that was for a good cause, wasn't it?"

At that Vhince froze, eyes dilating to the size of onyx saucers. "Y-ye gave 'er…"

"Two gold pieces to be exact, really…why? Good God, Vhince, you look like hell's struck you dumb…what is it?" For Vhince looked like a dying codfish, his pale face even paler and his mouth opening and closing in stunned o shapes. Then the codfish face was replaced with absolutely livid rage.

"Crafty bitch," he growled unexpectedly, and he stormed off towards the little store. I was shocked at his sudden rage and so, wanting to know the cause, I silently followed him.

I only managed to reach the window when I heard Vhince's normally disarming voice simply convulsed with pure boiling ire. "Yeh Goddamned vixen!" he was yelling. "Who' were ye thinkin', eh?! I though' ye really loiked me mate, t' offer yeself t' summone other than a customer! An' now ye 'ad t' loie t' 'is face t' weasel money outta 'is pocket! Ye _dared_ to do tha', ye bastardized tramp?!"

"Oi did who' Oi 'ad te, Vhince!" Emer's lovely voice was just as infuriated. "Oi 'ad no choice!"

"But ye 'ad to go an' loie t' 'im, s'tha it?! Loie abou' a sick granma?! Jesus, Mary, an' Joseph, Em, ye literraleh loied an' stole! As if bein' a prostitute's innit bad arnuff?!"

My blood chilled at every word of this harsh conversation, but the last line just froze me, and my heart stopped. _Prostitute…whore…bastardized tramp_… The words resonated in my head, which suddenly felt hollow.

"Ye t'ink Oi'm damn'd well 'artless, don' ye?" Emer cried, and her voice cracked from emotional strain. "Ye t'ink s'tha easy fer me t' give meself to a man s'if Oi'm jus' a toy paid fer? T' tell a man Oi love 'im cus Oi needs teh? Oi dinna' choose dis bloody loife! So don' go damnin' me fer feddin' us!"

"But ye 'ad t' victimoize th' du Noir's heir, di'nt'cha?" Vhince's voice was now tired, sad and pained. "Ye seduced 'im jus' coz ye knewed 'is money puch wose 'eavier than othars…" Emer didn't bother to answer, with only her shaky sobs to compensate for irrevocable words.

That blow did it. I now knew she never really loved me…only the coins I had on me. It was too much.

I ran.

Robins always fled at times of danger, hurt and pain. Robins never wanted to face tribulations.

And I was bloody thankful I was a Robin.

----------

I sat down on my bed, brooding and contemplating the strange turn of events I'd had. Blood, screams and pain seared through my memory like iron through my gut. But I didn't care.

I didn't seem to care about anything anymore. What did I have to care for in the first place?

My father came in and sat beside me, something he never did, but I didn't have the spirit to act surprised. We sat together in uncomfortable silence, and I suddenly became very intent on studying the grey sunlight that streamed onto us from the window.

At length he spoke gruffly, "What were you thinking, boy? Why did you so such a thing?"

I turned to him and glared at him straight in the eye. "You'd do the same thing…_Father_…" I said the word as if it left a bad taste in my mouth. "If you were stabbed in the back by someone you thought you trusted, wouldn't you want to beat the hell out of that person?"

I stood up stiffly, my back still sore from the deep whip wounds I had received publicly…the penalty for attacking a fellow du Noir without consulting the authorities. Damn authority.

"Yes, I'd do the same thing," he said, more likely growled. "But I'd not beat the _life_ out of him."

I whipped around to glower at him, my eyes turning into frozen obsidian. He continued, "Gathering a gang of ruffians to help you pummel down a helpless friend? …Robin, that's nothing short of heartlessness."

"You ripped my heart out long, long ago," I said icily, and turned tail to meet my new friends, not caring that for the first time I saw pain cross the face I thought emotion could not etch.

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_Uhhhhh…that…was…__**eventful**__…_

_Please forgive me for the graphicness in there above… I needed it for the sake of storylines… Hai… I didn't enjoy it any more than you did!!!_

…_This. Is. __**The**__. __**LONGEST**__. Chapter I've written in my short life! Ho snap… Cheers to me???_


	5. Loveday Again

**holy freaking crap. it's been _two years_? crappy crapped crap. so sorry 'bout this. if anyone's still following this, know how sorry i am for this chapter's lateness. agk. and even if no one is anymore, i feel terribly obligated to finish what i started. warnings for this one for some rated-ness.**

**p.s. i've been reading and rereading this story and realized how many realistic mistakes there are in it. from now on i'm gonna be politically correct, i promise. wooh.**

**p.s.s. if this crap is still all "americanised" in spelling, forgive me. the sentiment is there. ;)**

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_It's everywhere, the blood. On my face, on my clothes, on the jagged wood beam I grasp. On my hands. I feel so alive._

_And the screams…God, the screams. Traitors make the loveliest screams. And they're all my name. Robin. Robin, please, no, stop. _Robin**_._**

_Then the blood takes on a life of its own, coiling around my arms, my chest, seeping into my pores, my ears, my mouth. Not into my eyes, however. It wants me to _see_, to see it squeezing me and choking me. Suddenly I'm the one who's screaming, and suddenly the sounds aren't as lovely anymore. _

I jolted myself awake, breathing hard and fast, a fist pressed to my thundering heart. It was almost noon already; that I could tell from how the thin winter sunlight glared weakly off my sweat-soaked sheets. I flexed my muscles nervously, as if I was checking to see if the blood really had let go of me. It was alright to be nervous when you were alone.

Rising and twisting to cracking my back, I blinked the sleep away from my eyes and rifled through my closet, looking for a clean shirt. Everything in it seemed sour and stale, and I wondered when on earth the servants would come and bring me inhabitable wear.

There was a knock on the door, and a blonde head poked in, brown eyes blinking in confusion. Ah, speak of the devil.

"Robin? I – oh! Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I thought you were – " The maid didn't even bother finishing her sentence, choosing to blush furiously instead, and I smirked.

"Come now, you've already seen more than your fair share, there's no need to be coy," I murmured, crossing the room to gently pull her into my chambers and lock the door behind her. She giggled as I trapped her between the wooden panels and my body, gasped as I bit at her neck and pushed her knees apart with my leg. Her brow furrowed when she grasped my back and felt the raised scars born of a whip, but she said nothing. The first time I bedded her, she had asked where they had come from, and I had silenced her by putting my mouth somewhere that made sure to shut her up.

Now she just trailed her hand down the knobs of my spine, touched the waistband of my trousers. "As my lord commands," she whispered, all coyness stripped away, just how I liked it.

Much later, she rolled onto her belly on my bed and watched me lace my boots. "I say we do three things later," she said, and I sighed and put on an air of interest. "What's that?" I asked.

"Number one: I run a nice warm bath to soak your weary bones in when you get back…"

Now my grin was for real. "Terribly inviting, yes."

"Number two: you tell me how you got those horrid scars…"

I pretended to groan in revulsion at the thought and she laughed. "Oh hush. If you do number two, then we can do number three, the best part, which I'm sure you know…" She batted her eyelashes in a way I was supposed to find endearing, and I chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Anything for you, darling," I drawled, "as soon as you fix up this pigsty."

"Evil man," she pouted, and I just winked and sauntered out the door, whistling as my namesake would in springtime. Tragic, really: her proposals sounded so enticing, but I had already arranged for her to be disposed of as soon as she was done cleaning my room. Such was my tidy system of handling comely servant girls, and though she was to be the fifth one to leave this fortnight alone, Lord du Noir never complained, too busy with his own whores.

Waiting outside the castle and leaning against the trees was my motley crew. "What took you so long?" curly-haired Glen demanded, looking up from the arrowhead he was whetting and frowning at me.

"Busy, busy; _very_ busy," I smirked. He shrugged and resumed his work.

Oisin, better known as Captain, grinned and clapped me on the back. "Who was it this time?" he asked, his lilting Irish accent rolling off with the visible puffs of his frosty breath.

"Same as last, but she'll be long gone once we're done with our hunt."

The moment the last word escaped my lips a mass of black-haired brigand dropped down from the top of the mahogany we stood under. "Her name's Mary, I think," James said without preamble, ignoring our yelled out oaths for him to stay away from all goddamned trees. "I like her. Can't I keep her, Robin?"

"Eugh, no. Christ's sake, man, you know where she's been, you might get contaminated with a certain someone's boorishness," Captain cried, compete with retching sounds, and I got the point and tackled him for it.

"You're going to pay for that," I said when I had my knees locked around Captain's sides and my thumbs jammed against the hollow of his white throat, deceptively saccharine hum, the way my father sounded when talking to ensconced prey.

To my utter shock, Captain did the strangest thing, smirked and craned his head up to bite my lower lip. It was brief, a scrape of teeth bright as sparks, but it was enough to have me shooting off him and yelping "Bloody hell" and rubbing forcefully at my mouth. Everyone was hooting with laughter, but I swear I was not blushing. Robin du Noir did _not_ blush. Ever. But good God, even the corners of stoic Glen's mouth were twitching upwards at my predicament.

"What in seven hells was that?" James was guffawing so hard he had to lean against the nearest tree. "You bloody sodomite! If you had done that to me, not Robin, I wouldn't have found it so funny and would have kicked your arse all the way back to Cork."

"As long as you get to bury your prick in it first, sweetheart," Captain crooned, blinking his moon-colored eyes playfully and ducking when it was now James who lunged at him.

"Alright, alright," I roared, jumping in between the two of them. "James, put that knife away, and Captain, can you _please_ try and seduce the village boys and not your mates?"

James was still flushed and visibly simmering, but he did as he was told. Captain put on his best long-suffering face and bowed in his silly pompadour fashion that never failed to make my steely resolve break.

We got down to business and started scouring the woods to see if some of the traps we put up had caught some unfortunate animal to be served on our dinner tables. Glen and Captain took the east side of the forest and James and I took the west. Soon we had collected three hares, four quails and a fox, but this was only half the game we expected to snare from all the traps we set in total.

I furrowed my brow when we came upon the fourth trap that was too neatly undone, almost by a human hand. "D'you think someone's stealing from us?" I asked, rolling the untied cord meant for deer.

"They wouldn't dare," James scoffed.

"Well, someone does," I shot back, and he shrugged.

This last hunting snare was sitting near the mouth of a yawning cave I'd always sworn I'd get down in someday but never really had a chance to. Now I shoved the dead coney I had still held on to from the last snare into James' arms and peered into it. It looked terribly dark, but I had faced worse fates. Something was pulling me into that abyss, drawing me as magnets did pennies.

"Meet up with the others, I'll come back later."

"And what do we tell your father if he asks where you are?" he asked dryly, stowing the carcass into the bulging sack.

"Tell him anything, that I impaled myself on a branch and died or something; _that_'ll make him happy."

He snorted and mock-saluted, then turned heel to march back in the direction of the castle.

I gingerly tried to find my footing as I made my way down. The combination of coagulated ice and rock was not at all friendly to my boots. Thick layers of snow lined the cave, and it stung to grasp the walls for support. I wished I had worn my gloves.

When a grayish moss-looking heap materialized from the shadows and advanced toward me I started and fell gracelessly down and hissing when I hit the biting cold snow, yelling and scrabbling helplessly away, "Back! _Back_! Get the hell away from me, you demon thing!"

I could only watch on in sick fascination as it froze. Ever so slowly it raised its arm and pulled back its…hood?

_Oh God_, I thought weakly as I stared into the equally pale, equally shocked face I had merely dreamt of reconciling with since I was eleven. My mouth went unhinged, and my brain knew but one word to say.

"Loveday?"

"Robin?" All the ache and hope of the world was packed into that breathless gasp, and I all but flung myself at my sister, my _sister_, and she hugged me back just as fierce.

"Wh-What…how…" My voice pitifully broke and I could not finish.

She sighed and ran a hand through her limp golden tresses. There were new lines on her features. "Come with me out of this dreadful cold."

Loveday led me to a door woven out of vines, and when we entered I saw a room illuminated and warmed by a crackling fire, the roof lined with herbs in season and…

"Er…why is there a goat in here?" I asked weakly. She laughed and led it aside. "Glenda keeps me company," she said, and I nodded slowly, not mentioning that her estrangement seemed to have made her just a tiny bit insane.

She caught my incredulous look and smiled wryly. "She came from one of your traps, you know. The one set near me."

I gawked at her, no matter how silly I knew I'd look. "_You_'re the one tinkering with our traps?"

"Hedgehogs, snakes, and a pregnant goat aren't things I think you'd want in your belly," she sighed. I opened my mouth but she said after, "The kid was a stillborn."

Awkward silence reigned for a while. "Sit, sit down, please." She motioned to a comfortable, worn-down wooden chair. I did as she asked, and she produced a collar with pheasant feathers serving as design. Almostshylyshe help it out to me.

"You always loved these birds," she said, smiling widely when I took it and immediately tied it around my neck over my red scarf. "Thank you," I murmured. I would wear this for a long time.

Happiness gave way to overwhelming curiosity, and I burst out, "What are you doing in a cave? Aren't you supposed to be married to that Merryw – "

Even before I was able to finish she held up her palm, cutting me off. Her face was contorted with pain, her hand visibly trembling when she lowered herself into the other chair, a sackcloth-covered decrepit thing that accommodated the way she curled into it and breathed shallowly through her mouth.

"I – he – B-Benjamin…when I finally told him I was a du Noir…he…on our wedding day…the geraniums…"

Though her words were all sobs and barely coherent gasps, I managed to piece things together, and I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her, a luxury I haven't enjoyed in seven years. She wordlessly turned her head to bury it in my shoulder, dampening the leather with her tears.

When she slowly regained her composure, Loveday sighed and squeezed herself tighter to the side of the chair to let me sit close to her. "My God, when did you get so grown up?" she exclaimed softly, chuckling. I grinned, painfully conscious of the fact that I stool half a head taller than she did now. "You'll knock chandeliers over if you aren't careful."

"I missed you," I murmured softly, resting a cheek against her hair. "You have no idea how. What. I've done terrible things since you left, Loveday. You. You wouldn't think of me so highly."

She made me straighten my back and took my callused hands in her tiny warm ones. "Try me," she demanded, our father's determined resolve seeping into her voice.

Bit by broken bit my life since her departure came out, and only the tightening of her grip and the worrying of her lower lip were indications of her negative reactions. When the last ton of mortar had been finally chipped off my burdened soul, she smoothed her fingers down my jaw.

"I am sorry you had to mature in a world without your big sister, Robin. If only I was there, I could have – "

"You could have what?" I stipulated acridly. "Stopped me from laying with Emer? Taken the club in hands to stop me from bludgeoning Vhince to death? Born the lashes on my back for me? No, only I am to blame for my sorry excuse for an existence."

I pried myself away from her and said, as cool as the outside weather, "I should go. I'm glad to see you well." The words are heavy in my mouth.

"Robin," she pleaded me, grabbing my arm. "Listen to me. The 5000th moon comes. You need to do what I failed to do, Robin. You need to save the valley from the curse."

"I don't care about some stupid curse." A chill not from the blast of wind when I opened the door crept down my spine. "If the valley is to die, may it take me and our damned father with it." As I trudged through the cave I could hear Loveday calling hysterically, "Right your wrongs, Robin."

When I got back to the castle Father and an earful of reprimands were waiting for me. James and the others raised their eyebrows questioningly as I passed by them, but I just locked myself in my room, Loveday's ominous words ringing in the caverns of my mind. _Right your wrongs_.

If only I knew how.

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**robin's new friends belong to the movie, but i own how i screwed them over. sorry i made captain gay. check him out in the film, he's too gorgeous to be straight.**

**comments are drive-inspiring.**


	6. Pearls

******goddamn there are so many typos in the last chapter, but i'm too lazy to correct any. hopefully this chapter is a little less atrocious.**

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Spring came, and with it fresh game (in the form of either hapless animals or dewy-eyed maidens) and fresh bouts of recklessness. Captain had been caught doing "improper conduct" with one of the watchmen and didn't mind the thirty lashes he got afterwards. "It was worth it," he'd proudly tell anyone who'd be stupid enough to tarry and listen. Father, in the meantime, took to getting drunk even before noon, making him either extremely amiable or extremely more of a pain in the arse.

Days like these appeared often, and soon scaling down the palace walls to crash in accommodating young women's or my mates' beds was the only way I could save my hide from being tanned for the slightest movement. This day I'd barely made it to a nearby window when a guard halted me and said, puffing out his chest in that ridiculous way all his kind were taught, "The Coeur du Noir wishes to see you, m' lordship."

I sighed. What'd the old dotard want now? "Thanks," I murmured, then, in a harder tone, "Do keep your chest tucked in, soldier, I'd hate to see it…_damaged_."

"Eh…damaged by what, sir?"

I could've bashed the imbecile over the head with his spear. "_Me_," I snapped, and took off for the main hall before he could put two and two together.

As per usual, my father was in his chair of honor with a girl my age perched on his lap and tipping a goblet full of spirits down his throat. "Ah, Robin!" he cried happily once he was done guzzling his fill, spilling both girl and drink from his lap as he stood.

_Ah, so he's in clingy drunk mode now_, I sighed to myself as he tottered nearer to clap me on the back. "Just the lad I wanted to see!"

The girl – no, the _woman_; her elfin size had deceived me – was eyeing me like I was a racehorse in a paddock to be evaluated, smirking as she wrung wine from her skirts. "You're sending a boy to do a man's job, my lord?"

"What job?" I asked, nettled that the curvy, rather fine woman branded me a mere boy.

"Lillian, m'dear, he's doing the easiest part of a man's job," Father chuckled.

Sick and tired of him acting like I was never there whenever he insulted me, I snarled, "Oh, spit it out, Father, _what job_?"

Father sniffed, looking ready to retaliate, but then deciding I wasn't worth the trouble. "The 5000th moon is nigh, Robin, and word is a Merryweather lass is coming to Moonacre. _You_" – he emphasized this with a sharp poke to my shoulder – "are going to London to see if those damned pearls are with her."

_Right your wrongs_, Loveday's voice hissed in my ear. I brushed the nagging doubt away and drew myself to full height, those precious few inches that never failed to garner respect. "Alright, Father. It should be easy."

"Don't underestimate those Merryweather traitors, you fool," he rumbles irately, his cheery demeanor snapping back in place. "If you don't find it yourself you bring her to the palace. We'll squeeze the truth out of her."

My throat ducked as I tried to swallow down the lump growing there. "Yes, sir," I said, keeping my voice neutral.

"Right. Now off with you!"

I bowed as mockingly as possible to him, making sure I had our eyes locked together the whole time. I then turned heel and went to the village to seek out my crew.

They were at the marketplace, bullying an older, larger boy into giving some of his fruit. My stomach flipped over slow when I got closer and saw the rags bound around the boy's eyes, the way he stubbornly refused to give in to the taunting being inflicted on him. Even when Captain wrapped his body around him and bit at his shoulder he stood his ground, knuckles whitening on his oak staff.

"Hey, that's enough, that's enough," I demanded of my friends, forcing a carrot out of a silently fuming Glen's grip. At the sound of my voice the boy's shoulders grew as taut as an arrow string, and he turned towards me with this shriveled husk of a grin that chilled me to the core. "Robin? That you, you spineless son of a bitch?"

It was like someone had grabbed my insides and pulled hard. I _knew_ that voice. It forever haunted me in my dreams.

"I…Reno?"

A dull laugh spilled from my old friend's lips, bloodcurdling and hateful. "Get the hell away from me, du Noir scum, and take your mongrels with you. How you can possibly bring me lower is a mystery. I have nothing left that you can take from me."

"Oh yes, you do," James interjected cheerfully, popping out his knife that until now I didn't know where he hid on him. He made to dig the blade into an apple, but the butt of Reno's staff rammed into his arm with frightening accuracy and sent the weapon flying away. James yelped and stumbled backward, cradling his injury.

Captain, who still held him by the collar, shoved Reno hard into the ground, against his stall. Crops rolled about and Reno struggled to get up but was pinned down by Captain's foot on his chest. "You're going to pay for that," Captain said lowly, his accent garbling his words in that way it did whenever he went beyond reason.

I didn't know exactly why I forced Captain off Reno then. Probably because I still remembered the exact color of his irises: black in the nighttime, a brilliant rich brown under the noonday sun. Probably because I knew what it felt like to be pinned down like a mere insect.

Probably because it was I who had blinded him in the first place.

"Out of my way, Robin," Captain said, eyes dark and mouth twisted like something hammered out of metal. "I'm going to ram his stick up his arsehole and throw him to that Merryweather hellhound."

"None of that," I snapped. "Come on, we've got to go to London, we've no time for him." Out of the corner of my eye I could see Reno struggling to sit up. Glen had made a makeshift sling for James' arm, and now he asked, "What's in London?"

I pulled them all farther away, hissing, "Not here," when Reno yelled from somewhere behind me, "Freckle killed himself, you know. Hung himself with his father's belt. He was half-mad with grief and fever, and he was just a boy."

I went still, my breath catching. But I didn't turn around, didn't dare look back.

Some things had to stay chained to the recesses of my mind.

Once we got to the stables, I briefly outlined the task at hand, then turned to James, worried. His brows were drawn together, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. The arm in his sling was bracketed uselessly against his stomach. "You alright? Can you ride?"

"I'll be fine," he hissed, but he grimaced when he flexed his fingers. Captain suddenly exploded, "Of course he can't ride, what do you think? He's coming with me." There were pinched lines of frustration on his face.

"Like bloody hell I am," James yelped, an unexplainable flush creeping up the side of his neck. "I said I'll be fine."

A lot of shouting broke out, with Glen just sighing with the weight of a century behind it and me trying to calm them both down. In the end James and Captain still had to share a horse because only two were available; the others were busy hauling produce to town. Glen and I mounted a dappled stallion while a bay mare would bear them. Captain took the reins and slipped into the saddle behind James, the latter muttering oaths under his breath.

We crossed the countryside, the relentless pound of hoof falls keeping time to my heart hammering in my tongue, pressed to the roof of my mouth. The landscape shifted from verdant hills to gray cobblestones, and soon London came into view.

After asking around, we came to the cemetery where Col. George Merryweather was to be buried. "Stay out of sight," I ordered the others, pulling a strip of black cloth over my features and jamming my bowler hat further down the crown of my head. I leaned against one of the pillars in the nearby pavilion. The funeral was a tiny, shoddy one, its attendants consisting of only the priest, a few sergeants, an old governess, and an auburn-haired girl I assumed to be the one my father was interested in. Her name was Maria, the washerwoman we asked had replied. Poor thing was only thirteen, she'd tutted, and to be orphaned at such a young age…

I watched her cast a rose into her father's coffin and place another onto the grave next to it, maybe her mother's. Her gaze suddenly landed on me, and I was slightly surprised. She wasn't crying, though she was visibly trying to maintain her composure. Rather, her jaw was set tight, her face that of high and lonely nobility.

She stared at me for a second, then returned to her governess' side. I chose that moment to slip away and back to my friends. We decided that our best course of action was to stay around a while longer and wait for a time we could slip into their house and search it.

The wait was a long, uneasy one. Everyone was on edge. James, for once, wasn't running his mouth like he usually did. It might have been his bruises acting up, more probably the worried, strangely aching glances Captain shot his way. Glen preoccupied himself by chucking stones at trees. The desolate expression on the Merryweather girl's face was indelible in my brain. And her waves of hair were only a few shades lighter than Freckle's…

I closed my eyes, drew in a pained breath. Seth. His name was Seth, wasn't it? Same age as Maria was right now, blue-quartz eyes so bright and happy. It was hard trying to reconcile that image with that of a tormented soul hanging from the rafters. Strange kind of torture, seeing the ghost of him tighten his dead father's belt around his neck and kicking a stool out from under him even as his drunk, snoring mother lay nearby. I visualized the image on repeat until my nails formed blood-red crescents on my palms from my hands being fisted so tight.

When night fell, we came to the grand stone infrastructure the commoners said was the Merryweather home. We clambered up the birch tree by one of the windows and began hunting for pearls.

From the kitchens to the study, from the servants' quarters to the libraries we looked, but though there were some impressive silverware and crystals (Glen pocketed a few) there was not one pearl. We saved the girl's room for last, and we all turned everything upside-down but nothing useful showed itself. I considered seizing the leather book on her bedside table because of the words _Moonacre Valley_ embossed on it, but I thought otherwise.

All throughout this she had remained asleep, blissfully ignorant of the ransacking happening around her. Now I rolled the golden orb of her necklace between my fingers. She made a small sound when my gloved hand skated across the lily-white skin of her throat, and I froze, sure she would awaken. But she relaxed and her breathing deepened and steadied once more.

She was a queer specimen of lady, I thought absentmindedly. She wasn't stunningly attractive, but her deceptively plain features collaborated to make an interesting, intriguing face. It was disconcerting to think she was to be forced to talk by my father's hand now that we hadn't found the pearls. Ah well. She was a Merryweather, and that alone decreed that she deserved no pity. The memory of my sister in a wretched cave, crying from a broken heart, still burned.

We rode back home through the night, and I tried not to think, just feel the wind stinging my face and the darkness encompassing me, but my mind would not still. My ghosts forever haunted me, and I realized with finality that they would stay with me until I died.]

* * *

Father sounded almost pleased that we hadn't found the pearls ourselves, for that meant that he would enjoy carving their whereabouts out of the girl. I tried not to think about that too much.

The girl would be entering Merryweather land through thick, rusted gates, and in the underbrush surrounding it was where James and I lay in wait for them. He had insisted he go with me, and once again more protests came from Captain, but I decided on James in the end anyway. Glen wasn't so fun to be around, and Lord knew what Captain would do with me to pass the time.

The sun was already high in the sky when Gyr, Father's hunting falcon that accompanied us every now and then, screeched an alarm. I poked James to wakefulness just as a luggage-laden carriage pulled up to the gates. The driver hopped down and pulled out the keys that would unlock them, and the heads of the two occupants, Maria and her governess, poked out to see.

That was what I was waiting for. I silently signaled to James, and climbed onto the roof of the carriage to grab the girl from above. Over her screams I yelled, "Go and get the other one, take her, take the old one! Check her pockets!"

I tried to pull her out through the window but she drew something like a needle hard across the back of my hand. I yelped and yanked it back, it stung like acid so. James was being clobbered into retreat by the old woman's umbrella down below, and the carriage suddenly began to move. The momentum of it threw me off, and we both tried to dash through the gates but they had crashed down again.

Kicking at the dirt and roaring curses in frustration until I was hoarse did nothing to appease neither the pain in my right hand nor my battered ego. James winced and looked up at me from where he was slumped on the ground. "S'alright, Rob, we'll get her some other time. But, um, I feel like I'm gonna be sick, so can we go home now?"

He looked so pale, his beaded brow hot as a brand and his tremulous wounded arm ice-cold to the touch. "Goddamn it, man," I growled, hefting him to his feet and slinging his good arm around my shoulders. It was a slow, agonized walk back to the castle. James kept drifting in and out of consciousness, murmuring lowly, his eyes fluttering in an unending dance under their lids.

Captain dashed to us the second we arrived in the village. "What in seven hells happened?" he cried, immediately seizing James from me and cradling him in his arms, blowing out an agitated breath when he checked his temperature. "I told you the stubborn bastard shouldn't have gone with you in his state!"

"What, you think I don't feel bad enough right now?" I snapped, my hand smarting. "I know I acted like a prick, please don't add even more guilt to that knowledge."

But Captain wasn't even listening to me, already dragging James' dead weight to the healer's and whispering nonsensical words of comfort. The picture hit me like a lance to the heart, exactly how much Captain cared for him, which was more than he usually let on. And yet that care would stay unconditional, simply because they were both men.

A tap on my shoulder jolted me back to the present. Glen was studying my hand, which I had wrapped in a strip of now bloodstained cloth. "You should get that looked at," he said.

"Nah, I'll live," I said. "Accompany me to the belly of the beast?"

He smiled wryly. "Sure, a long as I still get to come out unscathed."

"Of course. You know full well the only thing he loves to hit is me."

Father didn't hit me physically, exactly, but with a barrage of choice words that made me suspect that he had prepared this speech in anticipation of my failure. He ended with "You are going to try again, for one last time, and I swear if you fail me I will whip you myself."

I just nodded stiffly and stalked out of the room, seething so much every edge was rimmed red. Glen caught up with my harsh gait and stopped me. "And where are you going?"

"Out. Don't follow me."

Glen's pace halted as I got further away, and I entered the woods alone. By the time I had walked the ire out of my system I was on the border of Merryweather territory.

I hesitated. Never had I dared to cross that invisible boundary. Now I had reason to, the reason being the carriage I had tried in vain to accost earlier pulling up to its front entrance.

Using the trees as camouflage, I got close enough to the manor to see the girl come out of the carriage to be approached by a dark-haired nobleman with eyebrows permanently fused together and an unsmiling face.

So this was Benjamin Merryweather. I finally saw him for myself. But Loveday told me of a big-hearted man with eyes that glowed bright and soft like candles. Not this solemn, joyless specter who greeted his niece with not an ounce of care. I couldn't help but wonder if he was just as shaken from losing my sister as she was from losing him.

I watched the cold exchange, grimacing at how much it resembled how Father and I talked to each other, and noiselessly backed away once they entered the manor. Nothing of import was to be gained from my little venture, and I went home with a growling stomach and an ache deep in my bones. Not even a warm body would do to distract me from this big painful puzzle that had become my life.

* * *

**notes: ****the scene where robin broke into maria's room is deleted from the final product. don't know how it went, so i just improvised.**

**the dialogue in the carriage scene is from the movie. had to rewind the damn thing over and over to get it. not sure if it's the exact wording, but hopefully the gist is there.**


	7. Feud

**sorry this is so late. made it extra-longish for you all. and i've made robin a little too snarky in this version, so he's gonna have to stay that way, thus making some small details divert from the film. hope you don't mind, it's not gonna be an all-out au.**

* * *

James' fever had already broken the next morning when I came to check on him. His bruise was a large mottled blue-green spot on his arm, and he moved with difficulty but was otherwise up. Captain was at his bedside and there were insomniac contusions around his eyes, but he said nothing about it, so I didn't bring it up.

I was still irked about losing the girl. The gash on my hand was now the color of spoiled plums, and I so wanted to repay her in kind, with high interest.

Two days later I got my chance.

My mates and I were out in the woods for game, and we were about to close in on the last trap for the day when Glen's head snapped up and he held out an arm to stop us. We followed his eyes and saw that they were glued to none other but Maria Merryweather. The idiot girl was ambling around, unaccompanied, in a ridiculously frilly green dress. We looked at each other and wordlessly agreed on what to do. I, in particular, couldn't stop grinning. I still hadn't thought of a way to capture the girl, yet here she was, so kindly handing herself over to us.

"You poor little thing," she breathed upon seeing the rabbit ensnared inside it, and beside me James had to clamp a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't snort his laughter. "Who did this to you?" She dropped to her knees and made to undo the trap, and I chose that moment to stalk out of the bushes.

"One trap; two catches," I smirked. She started with a gasp. "What do you want?" she demanded, and it was fascinating to see that the steel I saw in her at the funeral hadn't abated, not even when the others also revealed themselves, and I couldn't help but laugh.

I continued my taunts by saying, "That's girls, catch an animal and they can't resist coming to help." James tried to grab her by the arms but she forced herself out of his grip and said defiantly, "I know who you are: you're bandits and plunderers!"

Ah, so good Sir Benjamin had now articulated her in the lies about our clan. We jeered and hooted, and in a temper she launched herself at James and pummeled him repeatedly, right on his still mending arm, and I tugged her away from him. She turned on me this time, but then she caught sight of the souvenir she left on me and froze.

"You!" she cried, still staring at my hand like it was not to be believed. "You're coming with us now," I said sweetly, smiling even wider when her infuriated eyes met mine. "My father's just _dying_ to make your acquaintance." I made sure to make my tone as simpering as hers.

Gyr had been watching our little carnival from the treetops, and amid my mates' howls of laughter he raised a shriek. A second later James was suddenly toppled over from behind by a shaggy black dog with ruby eyes and a size so massive it would be as tall as me if it reared up on its hind legs. It was the hellhound of the Merryweather family. Already my friends were scrambling away from its frothing mouth and booming barks, but it seemed that I had some secret death wish, for I waited for it to get closer before I finally moved and ran.

We were still running when new sounds pierced the forest: horses' gallops, and the harsh shouts of the spawn of Lucifer himself. "Robin, it's your father!" James yelped, quite unnecessarily, just as said spawn of Lucifer and his troop of three halted at the foot of the slope we were sliding down. I stopped a little too late, and I ended staring _up_ at my father, something I shouldn't have been able to do anymore. I detested the vantage point; it made me feel like I was six and stupid again.

Father pulled up his leather mask so he could look at me in disgust fully, and so I could see that disgust. "What did I do to deserve such a prized dolt for a son?" he asked me rhetorically. I ground my teeth and looked away, straight into the condescending face of Father's captain, Romulus. I never liked that man, not his ridiculous queue or how Father clearly favored him more than his own son. They all rode off, probably into town to rent more whores.

The rest of the walk back to the village was spent with James complaining about how everyone and everything kept hitting _him_ nowadays, and Captain taking in his dramatics with a smile that never reached his eyes. Glen was quiet, but that was nothing new. And I was just imploding silently from how wrong everything had gone. The girl could have been a little less of a minx. James could have used that bloody knife. I could have answered back at my father in the same acerbic tone. But nobody, not even I, was being smart today.

When I entered the castle, who else were waiting to spring upon me but the Twins. They stood only somewhere below my chest, wielded naught but ropes and spikes, and were more conniving than foxes. The only way you could tell them apart was the placement of their black ponytails: one listing to the right, the other to the left. Not that that was of any help; they had no names, and if they did have any they'd never revealed them.

"Well, young master, was your project fruitful as your previous? It seems not," one of them said as he knotted some rope around a spearhead, a malevolent smile on his face.

I ignored him, but a lasso fastened itself quick and painful as a whiplash onto my wrist, and I was being tugged forward by the other twin. I snarled and tested its grip, but its strength was as disproportionate as its wielder. "Don't toy with me," I said lowly. "What does it matter to you that I capture the girl?"

They laughed, their childlike voices making the shrill sound all the more unnerving. "Don't you know? Your father thinks the girl – "

" – is the new Moon Princess – "

" – and he wants her to not prevent – "

" – the imminent fall of Merryweather."

Each twin took turn in speaking, another unnatural habit of theirs. "He wants the pearls too, of course, but that's second-stringer to that." They grinned, feral and leering. "So hopefully, if you both don't mind, we want the girl to…_play_ with."

Cold seeped into my bones, but I hid it by laughing once, without mirth. "Catch her yourselves, or are your stunted heights going to make it a problem for you?" I took advantage of the anger that crossed their faces and yanked the rope from the one wielding it. I smirked and loped up the stairs to my chambers, absently flexing my injured hand.

The second I closed the doors, the snick of a blade came from behind me and cold steel was laid heavily across my throat. "Scream for help and I will slice you like a pig," a woman's voice hissed in my ear. It was Lillian, Father's favorite whore as of late.

I sighed long-sufferingly. "If it's money you seek, all you had to do was ask. Or maybe do me a few favors…" I chuckled at my own joke, but the knife only pressed itself closer than comfortable to my skin.

"It's not material wealth I seek, brat. Your father refuses to let me leave the castle grounds. I only came here to make a livelihood to feed my children, and now I am not allowed to even see them." Her voice caught and broke. I did not need to turn my head to see the longing that was sure to be written on her face. Then, with renewed resolve, she continued, "So you will get me out of here or you won't leave this room alive."

I wondered whether my own mother, were she still alive today, would go through as much extremes just to care for me. I didn't doubt that she would. I nodded, and gently tipped the knife away from my neck and turned to Lillian. "All you still had to do was ask," I repeated softly, my tone different now, filled with respect and veneration for a woman only five feet tall. "In the armory there's a secret passage that leads somewhere outside the forest. It's behind the flag with our crest on it. I'll get you a duplicate to the key of the door, but you must dispose of it once you're safe."

She lowered the knife somewhat, conflicting emotions on her face. "And how am I to know that what you say is true?"

"You don't, I suppose. But I'm your only chance."

Lillian sighed, but she nodded and tucked the blade somewhere in the folds of her dress. "Thank you…Robin."

She left, and a small smile lifted the corners of my mouth. So there was some good in this world, and in me, after all.

The smile vanished when I remembered that my charitable deed only added to my long list of troubles: the impending 5000th moon, my failure to capture Maria, my father's permanent and unbearable boorishness. Blast it.

Nevertheless, I rummaged through my closet until I found that ancient, rusty-black key Loveday and I had found while wandering the dungeons. I then went to the smithy to have it duplicated.

The look on the barmy old codger's face after this would be worth it, after all.

* * *

That night Lillian disappeared from under the noses of the guards, but the woman seemed to be the last thing on Father's mind. He had a new companion, after all, someone older and shapelier but definitely not as interesting. He didn't ask after her, and so nobody told.

Yet this didn't really comfort me in the slightest. I was still in disgrace, and neither pearls nor Maria planned on revealing themselves anytime soon. I racked my brains all the next day for ways to redeem myself, but nothing came. All I could think about were Maria's eyes – clear and bright, like little pieces of sky fallen to the earth and caught in her dark lashes. How insolently they had stared back at me in the woods! Strange that such steel be hidden behind such a small frame –

I shook these silly thoughts from my mind like a dog shaking water from its ears. Good grief; here I was getting all philosophical over a ridiculously proud creature with a poorly founded high opinion of herself and her family when she was the reason my hide would get tanned in the near future. It was unnerving, what the arrival of this one girl could do to me.

Father had called for a feast the day before, and now all the high-ranking officials sat with us at our usually deserted banquet hall. He was in a frightfully cheery mood, even condescending to let my mates dine with us at the head of the table. Not that that was of any comfort – I had to sit right in front of Romulus, and James and Captain were having a row. It wasn't the usual bickers they'd have every now and then; they wouldn't even look at each other or acknowledge the other's presence.

"What's gotten into these two?" I asked Glen, gesturing with my fork to my two most talkative friends and the icy wall of silence thickly layered between.

He shrugged and mumbled around a mouthful of potatoes, "Dunno. Yesterday they seemed alright. Something prolly happened after I left them alone."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You mean – "

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean," he chuckled wryly, and said no more.

I sighed. Poor Captain probably aired his feelings and didn't elicit the response he'd hoped for. What did he expect, after all, that James would just jump ship like that? I shook my head and turned back to my food, tearing a chunk of bread and taking it with wine. Then, out of nowhere, the beginnings of a scheme. I turned to my father, who was busy being entertained by his new mistress, but I went on ahead anyway. "Father, I've prepared a plan to snatch the girl from under their roof." Not that I'd prepared it anyway, but I'd just improvise as I went along.

"Don't go near Moonacre, that house is damned," he snapped. Ah, how supportive the man was of any ideas other than his own. "Now, word is, she's about to meet her downfall."

Suddenly he stood up, a leer spreading on his face. I followed his gaze and oh Lord, did that girl even know how to keep her nose out of trouble? There she was, staring at us from the top of the stairs leading to the side door. She tried to run but two of the sentinels caught her by the arms and dragged her down to her knees before my father.

"How kind of you to join us, Moon Princess," Father said sweetly. Maria said nothing but yanked one hand free and held it out, something on her palm. The key! My eyes couldn't help but widen slightly at it. How on earth she came by it I won't know. But it wasn't going to be much of a bargaining tool for her.

Father, of course, laughed at her. "Now what is this?" He took the key and held it up for us all to see. "She has brought us the lost key, gentlemen, because the terrible du Noirs have had the moon pearls hidden up here all the time. Haven't we?"

His henchmen laughed accordingly, but Maria exclaimed, "Well, it's true, isn't it? Your ancestors stole them."

Father looked at her in mock surprise. "_My_ ancestors? Well, perhaps, princess, I should introduce you."

I had never understood why a rotted carcass of someone long gone had to sit with us as we ate. When I was younger I tried to stow the remains in a bag and keep it out of sight. My father had caught me in the act and flogged me where I stood with his belt. Until now I felt a creeping disdain whenever I looked at it.

He went over to that edifice now, the sentinels hauling Maria in suit. I took her by the arm, smirking when she flinched and struggled in my grip.

"Maria Merryweather, the last Moon Princess," Father said grandly to a pile of old armor, bones and dust, and turned to the girl, declaring, "Sir William, the very first Coeur du Noir."

I forced Maria into a mockery of a bow at this, and let her up after. Not that she minded; she was too staring enraptured at what Father had in his hands. "The pearl casket," I heard her whisper wonderingly.

"And you so very kindly brought us the key," Father said, mockingly grateful. He made to put the key in the lock, but pretended to drop it. The casket was open anyway, and of course when he lifted the lid there was nothing there.

"You've hidden them!" she cried, and he retorted, "They were never there, girl! Your filthy Merryweather family took them before he" – Father pointed at Sir William as he replaced the casket – "picked up the box. They stole the pearls, but soon the final moon will rise, and the thieving Merryweathers will be punished. And now that we have you here there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. At last, the entire valley will be ours. And the du Noirs will finally feast upon revenge!"

A great cheer went up, and I looked over at Maria with a smirk on my face, and was astonished to see that despite everything, she still managed to keep her head high and her eyes clear and cold, like ice in the sun. I was beginning to believe that people were right to think her a Moon Princess.

Father motioned for me to take her away, and I started walking her to the dungeons, my mates tagging along behind me. The cells we passed were mostly empty because its occupants died from malnutrition or torture, the latter the Twins' specialty. Once I pushed her a bit harder than needed, and she turned on me and said in a fury, "Leave me alone, you oaf!"

I laughed and said, "You know, for someone in your predicament, I have to admire your spirit." Glaring, she kicked me between the legs, and I gasped, doubling over from the pain. The fact that I let a girl make me look pathetic before my hooting friends was almost as agonizing.

"I told you she was feisty, Robin!" James cackled behind me, and oh, that was it. "Witch!" I snarled, regaining enough of my composure to grab her roughly by the nape of her neck. "I wouldn't say that if I was you Robin," James crowed. I thrust her forward to the dankest, foulest cell there was and ordered the guards to lock her up.

I pushed Maria through the doors, laughing when she tried to kick it and pummeled it with her dainty fists. "Welcome to your new home, love," James said happily, clearly milking the situation for all it was worth. "You can make friends with the cockroaches. Sweet dreams!" Maria stared at me through the opening in the door, but I just waved and turned my back on her.

As we exited, I yelled over my shoulder to the sentinels, "Watch her, she's slippery."

James snickered and elbowed me mercilessly, taunting, "Oh, dear Robin, I hope she didn't do any permanent damage. We won't have any clan leaders if the line stops dead at you, aye?"

Now that my rage had abated I became more aware of the sore throbbing burn I suffered, and I had not the energy to retort with anything other than "Close your face."

"Let 'im alone," Captain said, eyebrows hunched as he looked anywhere other than our faces. This came as a surprise, because it was characteristic of him to either join the teasing or make innuendo about my privates at a time like this.

"Let him speak for himself, you filthy bastard."

There was a wicked debilitating edge in James' voice, his head tilted back at a certain aggressive angle. He wanted a fight; we all knew exactly what it looked like when James wanted a fight.

"Shut it," Captain said, bright-eyed and angry. "I've suffered you through lunch and I don't intend to spend the rest of the day listening to your bloody mouth."

"Only because you want to do something else to it, is that it?"

That was a low blow, even for James. Captain froze where he stood, a dull flush creeping up his cheeks. Hearing his feelings for James summarized in such a demeaning, cruel manner – it was a wonder he didn't rip the lad's head off then and there. But he just bowed his head and walked on and out of the castle.

James scoffed as he watched him go, contempt glinting in his eye. But I thought I saw something else too, if just for a second, though I didn't know what it was.

I muttered to them that I was going to bed, and went straight to my chambers and collapsed still in my boots.

I was woken hours later by yelling and cursing, and the sound of soldiers thundering by. Growling, I ran out to see what the commotion was all about, and saw that Maria had somehow escaped, wearing nothing but her petticoats, and was running down the battlements into the village. Glen and the others had also joined the chase, and I caught up with them at the lead, desperate to not let her get away for a third time.

We cornered her against the wall that hedged us in on the hilltop. "Princess," I laughed as she tried to scramble up and escape, only to see that she had a very long way down. "What are you gonna do now?"

She looked around at us, chest heaving, when she suddenly lost her balance and fell screaming. I darted to the wall and gaped down at the sight of her rolling through the fallen branches and foilage, but managed to get my wits about me and began running after her.

Three search parties set off from the castle, one made purely of foot soldiers, one headed by Father and Romulus, and the last made of no one but me and my mates. We came across a clearing and found my father there in an icy rage. I just barely made out the sight of Gyr flying through the trees when Father spoke.

"I want her killed," he told us all. "I won't let her stop the curse. Their death is our victory."

I balled my hands into fists. I wasn't too thappy about the prospect of killing again. Not again, when my soul was already damned for what I'd done years ago. "Stupid girl…you should've stayed where you were," I murmured.

We started combing the forest, on the lookout for any sign of Maria passing the same way we were. At one point Captain pointed out a low-lying branch that had snagged a ribbon from her underwear, and I pocketed it with a grin, encouraged. But then Father came riding by, more than irate.

"Turn back!" he barked. "She's gone, call them all back. Who was the half-wit who let her escape?"

With a cold, sinking feeling in my stomach, I answered. "Hector was standing watch when we left."

Father grunted. "He won't get away without ounishment, the Twins will see to it."

Poor old Hector at the hands of the Twins! I was liking this day less and less.

It was a weary, dejected group that found its way to the castle. I was ready to drop, and James was ribbing Captain in a hushed but malicious voice. I couldn't tell what was being said but the incessant drone of it bothered me. I turned back to snap at them when suddenly, snarling curses in his own language, Captain had his hands on James' shoulders and was shoving him into a nearby wall.

My first reaction was to lunge and separate them before permanent damage was done, but then I caught the look in their eyes. Captain was desperate, pleading in a voice only for those meant to hear. James heard, and was terrified because he wished for the same thing Captain wanted of him but didn't know how to ask.

I blinked and swallowed, almost embarassed. I'd never known much about my mates, always minding affairs that concerned only me, and to see a part of these two spread out so freely before me felt almost voyeuristic. Thankfully, James pulled free and began walking speedily away from us, his face hidden from view.

Glen, who had been silent all throughout the exchange, put a hand on Captain's heaving back. "I need a drink too," he told him, a paraphrasing of _I need to forget about all this as much as you do._

Captain nodded, miserable, and like a curiously docile child he let himself be led. Glen looked at me, and when I waved them on he did so.

Upon entering the castle, I gritted my teeth when I heard the animalistic cry that ululated from the dungeons. I blew past the guards and sank onto my bed with my pillows over my ears, trying in vain to muffle Hector's screams.

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**reviews are fuel. to those who already have imparted their opinion, _salamat_. (:**


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